


Lifeline

by Davinia (WinterValkyrie)



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: M/M, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-19 14:04:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13705977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterValkyrie/pseuds/Davinia
Summary: When the SR3-Aralia crash lands on an unknown planet, a passing ISRT is Yugi's only lifeline and hope for survival. For Yami, this is the first human voice he has heard in over four years and he is uncertain whether Yugi is real or a figment of his imagination, someone he created to help him cope with the emptiness of space.





	1. The Aralia

Disclaimer: I don't own Yugioh or make any profit.

**A/N:** Welcome to my first attempt at keeping things PG13.

* * *

o.o.0.0.O.0.0.o.o

**Lifeline**

* * *

The timer beeped and Yami kicked himself away from the desk reflexively, his chair moving gracefully as it propelled him towards the food processor on the far wall. It was dinner time. More specifically, ramen day in his seven-option-cycle. After the first year passed, the stale, repetitive flavours had stopped bothering him as eating became more of a habit than pleasure. Which was something of a growing concern. The lack of desire meant he skipped meals, and when he skipped meals, he shed pounds. His once lithe form turned skeletal within the first few months, the muscle mass disappearing even though he continued to exercise.

Yet it was not easy to force himself. He did not look forward to meals but was reminded by the system whenever he required nutrients that he robotically obeyed. Or at least tried to. By now he had the routine memorized, each day repeating so consistently that he no longer had need of the alarms to remind him when to move or what activity to undertake. It had been, three years now? Four, maybe? He did not like to dwell on it too much. Counting time emphasized the endlessness of his sentence as everyday was the same as the one that came before. If he gave it too much thought, the dreariness made him anxious. It was best not to dwell. Routines were safe. They were thoughtless. Reliable. Simple.

Wake up, check the data, write a report. Check the data again, launch a probe, stay busy until the second report. Then bed, and repeat. Every 168 hours he would send a compressed data-packet back to Earth -- a compilation his findings, and that was his job in a nut shell. Nine years of routine and he would earn a large enough pension to live comfortably for the rest of his life. He just had to remain sane until then... Something easier said than done.

On Earth, nearly 300 years would have passed in the same time, which was why his job compensated so well. Time dilation made all interstellar travel problematic like that. His family would be dead by the time he returned -- if, he returned. Not only would the world be vastly different than the one he left, but the recon missions had a considerably low success rate to begin with. 

Of the first generation of pilots, only two made it home. Yami was part of the fifth wave, having joined shortly after the second pilot returned. By then, the reality of the situation escaped into public knowledge and recruitment understandably dropped. By the time he completed training, he was hailed a hero and given a grand send off in honour of his alleged ‘sacrifice’ for humanity. In truth, he could not wait to get away and reset his life.

And yet, if the public had known he’d chosen a “phantom” route, they would have dubbed him a madman instead of praising him as some selfless crusader. Not that there weren’t people calling him crazy. His fellow pilots considered it to be true, chiding him that; “No bonus was worth dying for.” Or the classic, “money does no good when you’re dead”. Yet Yami remained undeterred. It was never about the money, but ensuring a clean break from the past.

Eventually it could no longer be hidden from the public that the job took a steep toll on a participant’s mental health. As a result, the government stepped in with required footage to ‘inform’ applicants of the risk. By the end of orientation, more than half of Yami’s class had dropped out, and he had nearly been one of them. More disappeared from the roster as rumours spread that, of those “still out there”, sixty percent were already dead or missing. As more “Arrival Days” came and went in silence, party streamers threaded the halls like vibrant cobwebs -- an unsightly reminder of the danger that laid ahead.

Even so, Yami persevered. 

Of the seventy-one Gen-One arrivals scheduled over the course of Yami’s four years of training, only nine returned. Whereas the military had once planned to use them as recruiters for the program, these survivors were quietly drawn out of the spotlight and hidden from public view. The excuse was always that the pilots required “advanced remedial care and rehabilitation”, as if the strangeness of the future was the only thing troubling them.

His route had already had a pilot go missing, thus the term ‘phantom’ applied since his secondary objective would to be to uncover any clues as to how and why. The ‘incident’ in question occurred around the time ‘star-madness’ was said to kick in -- a time in which the boredom of living in isolation, stuck in a seven-by-four-meter room for years caused its own variety of ‘cabin-fever’. The previous pilot had probably gone mad, likely killing herself when the stress became too much which was the unfortunate fate of many. 

Needless to say, only five of the original two-hundred actually remained in Yami’s class by the time of graduation. 

By now, given the years that must have passed, the people back on Earth had probably assumed the worst fate for all of them; that they died: starved, suffocated or crashed -- lost forever to the vastness of space. His fate was to become a nametag and number on some memorial no one visited. That was the sad reality, that not many cared for the pilots beyond how their research impacted Earth or their daily lives. The universe was only just opening up for exploration and there was money to be made if a claim on a resource-rich or climate-stable planet could be settled early. What Yami did was primarily useful to humanity, secondarily pitiable. 

There was of course hope that this may have changed in the time he’d been gone, but the idea of what the Earth might be like now was a fantasy thickly soured with envy. Part of him was eager to know how the denizens of Earth fared now that a full generation had passed, yet the other hated their freedom. 

Slowly, as the years ticked on, it became no wonder why pilots hallucinated, acted out imaginary events, smashed machinery, spaced supplies, and all others sorts of insane acts. On some level it felt sane. Human, in a way. To regain a sense of choice and break monotony, even for a moment, felt worth the risk of self destruction. Yami had never caved to the temptation, but the inklings were there, digging at the back of his mind like an animal desperate to be freed. The drive to feel again brought on a multitude of bad ideas and, for that reason, Yami did not give boredom a chance to hold sway. Thinking was dangerous. And reflection stirred trouble. That was why routine was key. Routine kept pilots alive.

Those that did not follow routine disappeared to the void. They became the “phantoms” of deep space, like the girl that went before him. 

He had started thinking about her a lot more recently. Ever since he passed the spot where her final transmission went out.

According to her bio, she had been a bright-eyed brunette born into a middle-class family on Titan with two younger siblings. Her record listed an outstanding academic performance and multiple scholarship options that implied a grand future ahead. However, she abandoned academic pursuits and joined the military instead. With high-performance scores and dedication, she qualified for the ISRT program within months and was among the first to sign on. 

A note attached to her file stipulated that her parents would receive a stipend from her pension which, at first, struck Yami as odd. After a short background search however, it turned out that an illness prevented her father from working, and the amassed debt, now unpayable, threatened the family’s livelihood. 

From this it became easy to suspect that the oddities of her final transmissions were likely due to the stress of facing reality. As far as he could tell, time had finally caught up to her with the realisation that she would never see her family again. Not in the casual sense that flutters about, barely noticed -- but in the immediate, hard-hitting way that mortality can slam up against reality and make someone fear the finality of it all. She would, never, see her family again. It must have been too much to bare…

Whereas Yami had joined the program to get away from his, she had joined in order to save hers. A tiny part inside of him felt guilty that the idea made him smile. There would be years to regret it, counsellors had tried to warn him, but freedom – true freedom, was all he’d ever wanted. And besides, he was confident that this distinction between himself and his predecessor would secure a more beneficial outcome for himself. Afterall, whereas she longed for the past, he craved a new future. With fewer regrets, he wouldn’t bend so easily.

A beep drew him from his thoughts. How long had he been staring at the wall this time? With a curse he shook himself free from his thoughts and popped open the food processor, disheartened to find the ramen had cooled considerably while his mind wandered. 

These ‘blanking-out’ moments were awkwardly starting to occur more often. He’d catch himself, from time to time, drifting in and out of consciousness -- sometimes for hours -- and only snapping back when the next chime sounded. Shamefully he’d spent over an hour motionless and completely vacant. It was a tough fact to face but he did not have time for despair. 

Idly he picked at the corner of the warmed container as he brought it into his lap, suppressing the rise of a despondent groan that tried to worm its way free. “Just… don’t think about it…” He kicked off the wall, using the motion to ground himself back in reality, “Keep to routine and don’t dwell on it.”

The force brought him to his desk but couldn’t reinstate his hunger so he set the rehydrated food aside and distracted himself with work. The probes had already been launched so there was little else to do beyond scanning the heavens and listening to white noise; that, or rewriting new analyses based on data previously collected. All triflingly boring. But as he stretched and put his headset back on, planning to find something on his ancient playlist to listen to while he compiled data, a noise called out to him from the void. 

“He- …. Ca- ….”

A transmission on long-wave radio.

As he fine-tuned on the frequency, a voice became clear.

“Hello? Hello? Is anyone there? Hello? Anyone?”

A voice… the first he’d heard in years. He had almost forgotten how beautiful they could sound. 

His own had not been used in a long time as he refused to get in the habit of talking to himself. Training had recommended it but he’d seen the media use shuttle recordings to tear down the sanity of pilots back on Earth. For that reason, Yami had removed and stashed the microphone for his headset, fearing that the day may come in which it would be used against him. Now he needed it.

A mountain of empty food containers cluttered his desk that he didn’t have time to sort. He knocked it to the floor, excavating through layers of papers and books that littered the surface of his desk. It was like an archaeological dig, objects once thought lost now uncovered and returned to the light of day. It was a time capsule, tracking the progress of his lethargy and lack of care, though now, with motivation, the stack fell away and the small case buried within became visible. 

With some fumbling he pried it open and reattached the microphone, bringing the tech back online for the first time since he left Earth.

Clearing his throat, he became aware of how dehydrated he was, his voice raspy as he tested it before hitting the PTT and transmitting out. “This is ISRT- 251139, I hear you.”

“Yes! Thank goodness!” The relieved tone was palpable. 

“My name is Yugi Mutou, of the Aralia. We crash landed, I…I don’t exactly… I don’t know … I just woke up in the cryo bay. Three hours ago? From what I can tell everyone is dead, missing, or still in cryo. I don’t know what’s happening, but I can’t reach anyone else… Can you send help?” 

The voice wavered against strong sways of emotion, cutting in and out between breaths as if the speaker were in motion or shaking.

“I can get you help, just hold tight. I need to narrow in on your broadcast to determine location. Do you have any atmo-readings or access to the ship’s last positioning data?” In full honesty it would take him weeks to find the exact location of the broadcast on his own, Yugi would have to narrow the search before Yami passed out of range.

“Oh! You’re still there!” A loud crash of metal interrupted but Yugi talked over it, “No, all the power is out. The engine has ruptured and is shedding radiation like crazy, I can’t get any where near the backup battery. All I have is the emergency radio from the bio-lab and my omni-tool. I’ll keep searching for supplies.”

Yami clicked his tongue in agitation. His entire job consisted of scanning planets for their potential habitability and resources. If Yugi was with a team sent to investigate something previously uncovered and tagged as viable, then the atmo-report would shorten the search considerably. Without it Yami would have to manually search, hoping the planet or moon would be in his files. But with over 32 thousand candidates and counting, the idea was nearly absurd. Irregardless, there was no time to lose. He would simply have to focus on the most lucrative planets and anything within the same systems. For Yugi’s sake, he needed to get the location into his next report or else any survivors of the Aralia would be stranded – potentially for longer than Yugi’s natural life span allowed.

But before he could get a chance to pose his next question, crying came over the line.

“Yugi?”

“I thought you were gone! I thought y-” 

Shit. 

“Yugi, how long between now and the last time I spoke?”

Incoherent syllables garbled over the connection.

“Keep repeating your answer Yugi, you are breaking up. How much time between?”

“Two hours… Two hours... Two hou-” Yugi followed his instruction, repeating the information in a robotic tone that suggested he’d been doing so for a long time.

Double shit. 

It may have been seconds for him, but time was passing much faster for Yugi and clearly not all of his transmissions were getting through. 

In a panic Yami rose from his desk and did something he never imagined he would, powering down the engines to go derelict. 

With a gentle rumble the craft went silent. 

The white noise of the engines was gone, leaving an unnerving nothingness to ache against his ears. His body tensed, reacting as if danger were set to strike as an imaginary weightlessness settled in his bones, his mind eagerly trying to convince him that something was different, dangerous, even though logic knew the artificial gravity was still active. 

Yugi’s voice at last snapped him free. “Two and a half hours… Two an-“

The poor boy must have been repeating this entire time. “Yugi can you hear me?” 

“Yes! Yes, I can! I was so worried you were gone again that I, I…” The excitement faded after a short pause. “Hello?... Shit.” Yugi audibly growled before starting to repeat, “One minute, one minute, one-“

Yami snorted, barely containing a laugh. “You don’t have to keep repeating.” 

“So, there is a god…” Yugi sighed dramatically, “Are you able to hear me now?”

The connection still wasn’t perfect, not until the craft’s momentum fully slowed. “Sorry, I had to make adjustments. How much time now?”

“Ten minutes?”

“Not bad.”

“Oh, that was only a small delay. Di-did you land?” Despite all the talking he had just done, Yugi sounded hopeful rather than irritated. 

“No, I’m not near anything. But if this works, I will keep the engines off until I know someone’s coming for you.”

“Really? Thank you! Truly, I can’t thank you enough -- Wait, oh I’m sorry, I never asked your name?”

“It’s Yami.”

“Thank you, Yami. Thank you so much! I’ve been trying different frequencies, but it seems you are the only one I can reach.”

Yami felt his cheeks flush at the warm praise. He never knew how to return compliments or gratitude. If anything, it always made him overshare and emphasize his faults, as if the scales were someone how unbalanced and people needed to be reminded of his inadequacies. 

“Oh, um, I looked around a bit when you didn’t call back. There’s black soil outside, volcanic not chernozem. The ship is split apart. I could not find any food beyond a bag of chips someone hid in the security office. Most people were either ejected during the crash or made it to the escape pods. I don’t know which. I’m guessing this is one of the smaller pieces. The bridge likely held together and there could be other survivors. Have you heard from anyone else?”

Yami bit his lip. He did not want Yugi to lose hope or panic. He knew how important it was to sound calm and reassuring in these situations, even if he was internally dying of panic, busy swooning over the idea of having his first conversation in years. 

His anxiety was rapidly getting out of control. 

What was something a normal person would say? He didn’t want to come off as weird… 

“Uh…Well, you are the first to call in, but if I can narrow-in on your signal, I might be able to tell if others are broadcasting... The ship’s communication tower must still have power if you are able to transmit. So you shou-“

“-That’s because I’m using the back-up batteries in the empty cryopods to keep the lab’s power running. It gets very cold at night.”

“Has it already been a day?” He was genuinely surprised but knew he shouldn’t be. Still, knowing the day cycles would help filter down the list of probable locations.

“Two, I think… It takes about sixteen hours for the planet to rotate.”

“And it’s a planet, not a moon?”

“I don’t know. I could be on either. I’ve mostly stayed on the ship.”

Well that wasn’t helpful.

“If it is safe to do so, find out,” Yami replied clinically. The default to a business and operation mindset made the social panic calm down. “You are breathing, so that puts you in a goldilocks range for habitability. If I may, what was the Aralia’s mission? Knowing could help restrict your location to a cluster.”

“We are… uh, were, a research vessel, on our way to Asclepius-7. I was supposed to be in cryo until we arrived but was woken early -- during the crash, I think. My father, Solomon Mutou, was our captain and Arthur Hawkins, was our lead bio-engineer. I would wake the others to ask questions but I’d have to sacrifice power and… selfishly, I _really_ don’t want to lose contact with you.”

Yami’s lips broke into a half smile, “I won’t leave you.”

“Thank you…” Yugi’s voice shook as he spoke. “Seriously, thank you.” 

The small promise Yami offered seemed to break his composure and Yugi took a minute before continuing, “Sorry… Um…You said your name was Yami right? As in… The, Yami Sennen?”

That was disconcerting. 

Hearing his family name made him pause and sit up, pulling away from his terminal. 

“Yes?” he replied cautiously, the backlogs flashing over his screen in rapid succession as they begged for the return of his attention. 

But Yugi had thoroughly stolen it away. To the point that Yami could not disguise the anger embedded in his distrustful tone, “How do you know me?”

Apparently Yugi had a nervous laugh. And lucky for him too since it was soothing; both breathy and shy, spilling over Yami’s anger like a salve to ease the hostile air between them. “Oh, um… Well, lots of people do. Your father was renown and… well, that made you 'The legendary run away' after you disappeared.” 

Yami glowered. He was trying to get away from his past, not deepen his father’s legacy. Even in death it seemed the old man would haunt him with new ways to control his life through the ghost he left behind… 

“People don’t seriously call me that,” he deadpanned, hands beginning to quake with raw emotion.

Another nervous laugh from Yugi broke the tension. “Well fine, it may have just been me…” he confessed apologetically. “I was curious after I noticed you hide messages in your reports so I looked you up. It was fun, solving your riddles.”

Yugi’s voice was warm, the nervous tone replaced by a mix of embarrassment and mirth. “The Aralia was actually operating off of your data, so I’ve seen a lot of your work. As I said, I looked up some things about you, but I never expected...” He huffed softly, “Well, I’m glad its you. I feel like I’m calling a friend. And somehow that makes this situation feel infinitely better.”

It was Yami’s turn to be embarrassed, his surprise escaping candidly, “You… noticed my riddles?” That was genuinely impressive. "You should tell me about yourself then, otherwise this friendship is a bit one-sided."

Yami muted his mic and coughed while Yugi talked about his past. The strain from holding a conversation burned his throat as he left his chair to fetch water. The more Yugi spoke, the easier it was for the computer to track his signal afterall, leaving Yami free to skim results and filter for relevant data. 

There was only 37 hours left before the next transmission from his craft automatically fired to Earth. Yugi’s location would need to be attached to the packet and linked with the emergency broadcast, otherwise, Yugi might be stuck for decades. If all went well, it would reach Earth and they could then relay the message back to any ships in the area for pick up. 

He would send it manually but, for power reasons, the large broadcasts were on a fixed schedule. To complete his own journey, he could only sit derelict for a more than week, at most. If he pushed beyond that he would be at risk of losing power before reaching Sigma-12. 

Both time and resource were precious in interstellar space. 

But having the engines off meant his next broadcast would arrive “early”, approximately 10 years before originally expected. This would flag it in the system and draw attention. Yugi would get a rescue, only if Yami did not start moving again. If he did, at least 25 years may pass on Earth before the next signal was received. And that was why it had to make it on this transmission.

With water in hand Yami returned to his desk and unmuted his mic, jumping into the conversation and cutting Yugi off with a question, “So, if you were on Earth for the tournament, how old are you now?”

“Nineteen. I have been in cryo for… forty years? You should have seen me flop around when I first woke up – uh, strike that, no one should ever... Please ignore what you heard.”

Yami chuckled, a sound much deeper than he remembered. “Did you know that I have never been in cyro?”

“Really? Well, you were 17 when you left, so you would be 24 now…” Yugi grew quiet. “I…I sound like a stalker, don’t I?”

“What? No! I mean…” Yami caught himself loosing hold of what he had meant to say. “How about we just go with your ‘friend’ theory? Or, something like that? I would probably look you up as well if I had access to the internet. Its not… _that_ weird,” Yami consoled awkwardly, realising just how out of practice he was on the social front. 

The age did surprise him. Was he really 24? That didn’t sound right… Yugi must have been overestimating since that would mean there was only two years left for his flight. Had that much time truly gone by? 

“Thanks, I guess, for not making this weird," Yugi mused in reply. "You know, you are always frowning in your photos. It's nice to hear you laugh. I, uh… Truth be told, I’m actually really scared. This whole thing… It… Its hard to process.” 

“That’s normal.” Yami froze at coldness of his own tone.

Would it be hurtful to talk like that? He swallowed, trying to remember what it felt like to be comforted. His mother had called him callous and arrogant the day he left. His father refused to see him. In ways it was hard to know if he was already broken or if this lack of empathy was new. Either way, he tried to sound sincere and corrected himself, “What I meant was that fear is a healthy response. It will help keep you cautious and alert. But… You don’t need to be scared. The computer has tracked you to a star cluster and there are only three goldilocks in that zone. It’s enough to launch a rescue, but if you can help me narrow it down, I can send them the exact location.”

“Really?” The hopeful cry tugged at his heart-strings. “I... Yes, of course! Whatever you need. Thank you, Yami. Thank you so much!”

Yami broke eye contact with his terminal, face warm and flushed. “No need to thank me, I still need to confirm your ride and get you somewhere safe first.”

“Heh, not even a little praise?” Yugi chimed.

Yami grinned, once again warmed by Yugi’s whimsical tone. “None required.”

Shuffling picked up on the radio between the silence and Yami realised Yugi must have turned the mic on instead of clicking the PTT each time he spoke. Doing so would drain the power faster even if they were talking consistently. Still, it concerned him. In survival situations it was important to be conscientious about things like resource consumption. 

“How many cryopods are you able to syphon power from? You said you were using the shields because it’s cold.”

“Oh? Um, let me see.” The line went quiet as Yugi presumably started counting. “There are fourteen empty pods, including the one I came from.”

“And how many are occupied?”

“We had 60 on board, but some sheered off during the crash.”

“You were very lucky.”

“I know…” Yugi said, a doleful tone overtaking his former optimism. 

“Don’t feel guilty,” Yami pressed.

“But-“

“Don’t.” 

He tried to not sound cold, but this was survival. Yugi couldn’t afford to sit around being sad.

Eventually Yugi sighed, conceding the point. 

“If there are any cracked pods you may as well count them along with the 14,” Yami instructed, “Over the next hour you should watch and let me know how quickly the shield eats through the battery. I don’t expect one pod alone will get you through the night.”

Another of Yami’s alarms went off. It was time for his second report. However, the fact that he was stopped meant he would no longer gain new data so anything collected after this point would be useless anyways. He could probably stop writing reports for a while and shut down those functions to save power. Yugi was not the only one constrained by depleting resources. 

“Are you okay? What was that sound?” Yugi sounded genuinely alarmed.

“It was the computer letting me know a report is due,” Yami clarified, hoping Yugi wouldn’t worry over every noise. 

“Oh? I’m keeping you then. I’ll turn the radio off and message again when I can answer your questions about the power.”

“No! Uh... Lets keep talking… at least for the hour. You… might fall asleep otherwise?”

Smooth Yami. Real smooth. That did not sound desperate at all.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah… You said earlier that you’re an anthropologist? How did someone with your training end up on the Aralia?”

A spritely laugh hummed against his ear. “Hmm, well, if you are interested, my PhD is focused on spaceflight and how humans cope with interstellar travel. I am mostly interested in how community forms and divides during travel, but if you are willing to be interviewed, I would love to add an izzert to my research.”

Yami cringed, choking back a growl of disapproval. “Please don’t try to analyze me.”

Yugi laughed, clearly anticipating the response like the punchline of a joke. “That’s not what anthropologists do. I’m not a shrink. I’d just ask questions. Benign things, like, ‘what is your daily routine’, ‘what do you find tedious about your job’ – all easy things that have simple answers and would only be valuable within their original context. It might be used in later ethnographies, to contrast or support other research, but that would not be my intention.” His tone alighted, “I wouldn’t even need to include your name.” 

Yami’s voice turned playful as well. “Why Yugi, I am beginning to suspect you will include me no matter what I say.”

“Ack! There are ethics, Yami!” Yugi did not sound half as offended as he pretended. “I’m sworn, never, to betray the trust of any of my informants. Even if my entire PhD rests on your testimonial, you can revoke consent at any time. But, I am genuinely interested in your life. Seven years it a long time to be alone.”

“I’m in it for nine.”

“What!? How was that legal? Why would you- oh, please tell me you will let me interview you?”

Yami sighed, louder than he expected. 

And when Yugi heard, his excitement dipped. “I’m sorry Yami. I know the recon teams have a hard life. It was insensitiv-“

“It’s fine,” Yami spat the words, not meaning it as aggressively as it came out.

Silence ensued. 

Standing from his desk Yami began to pace, hating the silence and lack of static from the other end which meant Yugi had turned off the mic. He hated this. His tiny world, this small box, was suddenly smaller without Yugi in it. 

“Yugi?” 

No response.

“Hey, come on, I didn’t… You can interview me, just don’t… don’t go silent like this.” 

“I... I’m sorry…” The nearness of tears was evident in Yugi’s watery tone. “Please don’t leave me?”

“I won’t. I promise.”

There was a sniffle, and intermittent shuffling. Yugi must have been holding the radio to his chest and accidentally hitting the PTT, because not everything Yami said seemed to go through. Poor kid. Waking up to this kind of situation couldn’t have been easy. At least Yami had freely chosen his isolation.

The sleep alarm went off and instantly his body felt drained at the chime. 

Yugi’s weak voice returned. “What was that?”

“It is easy to lose track of time in here so the recon teams have strict alarms that keep our bodies on a circadian rhythm. I am a pavlovian dog, Yugi. I feel like I am going to pass out.”

“I did not know that was a technique they used. But - you should go to bed then. I’ve been selfish to occupy your time like this.”

“No, I want to talk. Yours is the first voice I’ve heard in” – how long was it now? – “a long time. It’s… nice.”

There was some strength returning to Yugi’s voice. “There is only ten minutes left on the timer. Can a space puppy hold out that long?”

Yami snorted at the moniker, his body automatically undertaking the motions of powering down all non-essential systems and climbing into bed before he realised Yugi had stopped talking. 

He started to answer but yawned instead. 

Yugi snickered in reply.

“Don’t laugh, its hard to fight it.”

“Then don’t, I’ll be fine. I can monitor the shields on my own.”

Yami hummed against the microphone. In his head, he was still answering questions.


	2. Planet-252179

The alarm chimed and Yami sat up reflexively. His neck was sore and he was still wearing his headset, which was weird.

It took him a moment.

"Yugi!"

He went to click on the mic, only to realise it was already on. Nothing came through from the other end. Yami tried again, hoping not to sound panicked, "Yugi? Yugi, are you there?"

The silence was torture. He held himself tightly and rocked a bit as the minutes passed.

Was it a dream, had he made Yugi up – created himself a friend? It would explain how Yugi knew so much about him…

Oh no… He really was losing his mind.

There was not even static on the other end.

Another alarm sounded. It was time to shower. He released his knees and stood up without hesitation. The compulsion was unnerving and it unsettled him even as he obeyed it. He left the headset on the bed and stripped out of his clothes, tossing the laundry into the clean cycle. He set the timer for it, then stepped into the shower tube. Hopefully he would be able to ween himself off of this reliance once his travels were over.

The partition sealed and he stood over the drain before turning on the water. After washing up, he finished the rest of his morning routine. It was as programmed, and he had almost forgotten about Yugi until it came time to put the headset back on.

He had no other work to do while the ship sat derelict. And yet, only silence greeted his calls over the radio.

Maybe he was going crazy...

But, just to be certain, he waited.

If he did not hear from Yugi by the midday report, he would restart the engine.

It was humiliating... He had already included the Aralia's crash in his report. There was still 28 hours to change it, but the system would show he had killed the engines. And, worst of all, there existed a record of him talking to himself.

He sat at his desk in silence, listening.

He stared at nothing, his mind blanking until the breakfast alarm went off. He had not consumed the ramen from last night and now it sat on his desk, cold. He did not bother reheating it, but pouted and poked at it. It gave him something else to think about.

"Yami? Are you awake?"

Noodles went flying.

He fumbled the container and choked down a mouthful, nearly falling out of his chair in the panic to flip the mic back on.

He recovered. "Yugi! You're okay!"

"Sorry! Guess I worried you. I had to turn off the radio for a while."

That did not sound good.

"Why? What happened? Are you loosing too much power?"

His favourite laugh came over the radio. That shy, nervous little hum. "You were snoring… It was cute at first but, well, then it got weird."

His face went slack and jaw fell open. It was like a silent scream. Yami was mortified.

"Yami?"

He choked on air.

There were no words.

None.

What could he possibly say? Should he apologize? How bad was it that Yugi needed radio silence?

Yugi roared with laughter.

Every time he tried to calm down and form words, whatever Yugi was trying to say made him laugh again. After about five minutes, he finally got it under control. "It was like… It was…. Oh Yami, I promise I will take this to my grave, but, I love it. You are so funny and I could not stop laughing last night. I'm sorry, I know it's mean- Heh-heh-heh… Oh, give me a minute."

He breathed deeply into the radio. "Okay, so, ahem. I wanted to tell you, I have already drained seven pods. But - good news, I have a few instruments working in the bio-lab and I now have the atmospheric data you asked for. I'm confident that it is a planet, roughly the size of mars and-"

"I know where you are now." Yami pulled down the screen and started adjusting his report for planet-1311819.

"You do? So, using that much energy…" he sounded frustrated. "Okay, good. Good. I will shut it all down then. This is good. It was worth it…" His self-reassurance quickly fell away, the taste of his own lie upsetting him. Yami was too quiet on the other end. "Did you receive any word? Has anyone contacted you?"

"Yami?"

He flinched hearing his name, slowly snapping out of it. "Sorry, I was stuck in my own headspace. Does 'Yugi' have one 'u' or two?"

Yugi sighed in agitation. "I don't care, people spell it wrong all the time."

"Well its going to only get one then," Yami bit back. He frowned. "Are you mad at me?"

"No, why would… It's nothing. I'm just…worried, about everyone else. My dad is still out there. My friends…" Yugi's voice drifted off. "I want to know what happened."

Yami felt guilty. "Can you forgive me? You wanted to know what life as an ISRT was like, well, this is the pinnacle of it."

Yugi sounded confused, Yami was only half-focusing again. "What is? What do you mean?"

"Renaming things. Making stupid jokes for my own amusement…"

Shoot. Was it too late to retract his statement? Yugi was quiet and patiently waiting. It seemed like it was. "I… I just renamed the planet-252179… It's stupid, but it made me laugh."

"Twenty-five… twenty-one… seven - you renamed it Yugi…"

Yami snorted at his own joke. "I did."

"I know you can't see me shaking my head, but, please, imagine it."

Yami's laughter spilled over and Yugi's joined him, even if he was reluctant. Yami was so embarrassed.

"You are lucky I like you Sennen, or this recording I have of you snoring would be all over the internet."

"Not if you don't get rescued."

"You wouldn't!"

"I wouldn't."

Yugi hummed over the intercom. "I have already said it, but I'll say it again - I'm glad it's you. I really needed to laugh just now." He sighed, his voice trembling. "I was sick to my stomach all night. I'm so worried about my dad. Has there been anything? I can't believe I'm the only one that made it."

Yami chewed the inside of his cheek. "I would need to change frequency, but I didn't want to leave you stranded. This morning… I was worried you weren't real - that I was losing my mind and talking to myself and-"

"Yami…"

"-I'm serious. Can you… Can I ask a favour?"

"Of course." Yugi's tone carried an edge of concern.

"Can you tell me something I don't know? Something I wouldn't know, because it happened after I left?"

There was a long silence before Yugi replied, his voice soft and dulcet, "Yami, I want to... I reeeally want to help you. But, there is nothing I could tell you, that you wouldn't be able to manipulate into thinking you had made it up. If I am not real, and the Aralia is a figment of your imagination, then everything is. But I promise it's not. I promise I am real. You need to trust me. I need you, and everyone still alive from the Aralia needs you too."

Yami shook his head, regretting that he had ever brought it up. Yugi was speaking to him as if he was about to jump off a tall building.

In ways, maybe he was.

"Oh! Um, how about this? Try telling me what I look like. Just imagine it, and I'll let you know if you get it right. Once I get rescued, I can transmit a photo and you can confirm it."

Yami drew in a slow breath. He thought of the girl that went missing. "Brown hair, blue eyes?"

"Wrong on both accounts."

"Blonde hair, brown eyes?" He sounded less confident in his answer this time.

"Nope. Violet eyes and black hair, dyed at the ends."

"Violet? That's unique." He actually did feel a little better. He never would have guessed violet.

"Mhm, kind of like yours. I don't know many people with red eyes."

"You really are stalking me, aren't you?"

"Tsk, you're the one naming planets after me."

"Touché…"

It was always so quiet when they both ran out of things to say. This one was slightly less uncomfortable.

"Yugi?"

"Mhmm?"

He really did not want to do this. But, he needed to be the brave one. He could not let Yugi pick up on his nervousness.

"The report is going to launch in less than twenty-six hours. In the meantime, I am going to change frequency and see if I can get a hold of anyone else. You should try to head out and find supplies. If you can, keep track of any areas that could be used as a landing zone, but don't let the wreckage out of your sight. You will want to get back before it gets too cold. I will check in on you when the sun goes down…You said it was on a sixteen-hour cycle? So… it will be down again in, four hours?"

"Roughly." Yugi's voice was crestfallen.

"Remember, you own this planet now. You can handle whatever is out there," Yami said, with as much charm as he could muster.

It seemed to work.

"Yea, well. Let's hope the natives are friendly." That made them both nervous.

"Hold on, let me recheck the reports. Sometimes if there is a high enough concentrate we can-"

"Don't worry about it. There was a stun-gun in the security office and I have a filter from the bio-lab. Other than my nerves, I'm ready to go."

There was that stupid silence again.

"Okay, please take the radio with you."

"I can't, I need to save the battery. I'm half way through the pods. I have maybe, two more nights, before I am out."

"You could always…" Yami shook his head. He already sensed Yugi's disappointment.

"No… They are alive. In fact, they have a better chance than I do of making it out of here."

"That's not true." How could Yugi even think that? Yami was in disbelief. "Yugi, help won't come right away. By the time this reaches Earth, unless someone is already in your star cluster, you will be stuck there - for at least a month, if not longer."

"The pod's reserves won't last more than a month…"

"No, they won't. So, it's a gamble, but you need to think on it, and take it seriously. Right now, you could siphon enough energy to wake a few of them. But, as you said, you don't have any food. So, if you go out over the next few days and find the canteen, you could consider it. However, you need to keep warm at night. The energy you would waste reviving them-"

"Stop. Yami… Just stop."

"I can't. Not until you promise me."

"Promise you what?" His words were laced with anger.

"That you will put yourself first."

"I-"

"Please?"

The lunch alarm went off. He got up and walked over to the food processer, then stopped. "I won't eat until you eat."

"Yami don't…"

"I mean it. You are the guaranteed thing. Promise me you won't give up."

Yugi sighed, defeated. "I won't give up…"

"Good." Yami smiled with relief. "Now I can tell you that there are two other signals near you."

"What?!"

Now that sounded more like the Yugi he had met yesterday.

"I'm going to check it out and I will be back on this frequency in three hours. Don't keep me waiting?"

"Okay, yes! I'll set an alarm on the omni-tool."

"Good luck."

"You too."

Reluctantly Yami moved off of Yugi's frequency and started tuning in to the anomalies picked up by the large-range scanners. By the time he was seated back at his desk, he had already honed in on the first which was a distress beacon.

"This is Captain Solomon Mutou of the SR3-Aralia, seeking emergency aid. Please respond."

Yami brought the recording software online and practiced a few times to get his tone right. Then he started the recording. "This is ISRT- 251139 responding. Captain Solomon Mutou, acknowledged. Long-range emergency broadcast imminent. Location, identified as planet-25-21-7-9."

He let it play a few times then lined it up. It was now set it to loop back between the delay on the original broadcast so that the two talked to each other. Even if they could not transmit, they would at least know that they had been heard.

The next step was to figure out the specific location. If he could get the computer to produce, even a quasi-accurate map, there would be a possibility of guiding Yugi to them. But, that assumed the beacon had not been launched or knocked clear of the ship. It was too dangerous to send Yugi any great distance without a guarantee of safety.

While the computer worked on that, he started tuning in on the second signal. He mumbled into the microphone a series of 'hello's, hoping, if the broadcaster heard, they would reply and he could use their voice to guide him manually into the frequency. But nothing came of it.

He switched back to the emergency broadcast and listened for any changes in the message. It was weird to hear his own voice, but there was nothing new.

He opened a modelling program and loaded his data on planet-252179 into it. An image of the planet, in its orbit, appeared above his desk. He moved it around, curious to see if there was a temperate zone Yugi could move to where the extreme cold would not be a problem. Perhaps near the north pole where the axis nearly faced the sun. 'North', of course, being relative in space and only orientated based on the current position of the model.

If Yugi could get there, it would be hot during the day and cool at night. He could survive outside in both conditions, provided there was enough food and water available. It had potential, but if there were any Earth-like organisms, they would thrive in these zones as well. That included dangerous micro-bacteria.

The computer beeped and he switched back to the emergency broadcast. It had changed.

This is Captain Solomon Mutou of the SR3-Aralia. Acknowledged ISRT "Yami". Gratitude. Confirmed location: "Yugi".

It was as Yami thought, their signal was scripted. But it was not impossible to communicate if someone knew how to tweak the programming. The beacons were always very basic so they could operate no matter what terrain they landed on, for years if they had to. He thought of how he wanted to phrase his response, knowing the survivors would need his words to formulate the reply.

"This is ISRT-251139. Overwatch, Planet-252179. Supply requisition acknowledged. Recommend coordinates 48 N, 123 W, linking model. Caution. New coordinates requested."

He set the new information on loop. If they had been able to change the message, they must be near the beacon. Yami had Yugi's location narrowed within 10 degrees of error, but on a planet-wide scale that would not be useful. When on foot, the difference translated to about 100 kilometers of error on either side. He could accidentally mislead Yugi and guide him in the wrong direction, and it would take days of travel before Yami would even notice. It was best to keep Yugi where he was until it was no longer safe.

He listened again to the emergency broadcast, but it hadn't changed.

The tone for dinner went off. His stomach growled. There were still noodles all over the floor, but he would worry about that later.

Yugi would need to head back now. And, if the beacon was not secured, the survivors would also need to seek shelter. That meant it was unlikely he would hear from them again tonight.

He switched over to his report and updated it with new data from the emergency broadcast. It was now ready to submit and the countdown to firing began. It would do so automatically while he slept.

Finally, he had his chance to switch back to Yugi's frequency.

"This is ISRT-251139 acknow" - He caught himself still talking to the robot - "Yugi? Are you back?"

No response. Only the deafening silence.

He tapped the table impatiently. Maybe now was a good time for cleaning. It had been a long time since he had, and, it was a task that could keep his mind busy while he waited.

But, when all was said and done, Yugi never came back on the channel. The alarm for sleep went off and Yami fought it as long as he could. He ended up asleep on the floor.

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you for giving this story a chance :)


	3. Broken Promises

He stirred but his morning alarm had not gone off yet. It was probably the worst sleep he had in a long time.

Yami shifted again, his body stiff and reluctant to obey. He blinked his eyes, seeing nothing in the dark room. Slowly he managed to pull himself upright, using the light of his omni-tool to guide himself as he walked over to the bed. He yawned, struggling to remember why he had been on the floor in the first place. The covers were already pulled to the side so he let his body drop and fall sideways into the nest of pillows. He covered himself and drew a pillow close, hugging it to his chest and burying his face into it as sleep set in. He was nearly out when Yugi's voice came over the intercom.

It jolted him awake. In quick succession he accessed the omnitool's interface and overrode the volume controls to divert sound back to the headset. He had forgotten he had maxed it out. But now he knew his plan had worked. He could still hear Yugi's voice in the room, only now it was muffled.

Yami blinked, blinded by the holographic interface that projected over his left arm from the band around his wrist. He closed his eyes, and with a trained familiarity, keyed in the controls for the flashlight. Once again a diffusion of muted light filled the cramped space and he squeezed his eyes open. He was careful, more cautious this time, about sheltering his eyes from the sharp sting. He glanced around, picking out familiar objects. The one thing out of place was the headset on the floor.

It was near, but not near enough. He groaned in reluctance.

During his proverbial 'night' the room was intentionally cooled to help him sleep.

He sacrificed a leg, stretching out with his toes to pull the headset closer. When it was within reach he tucked himself back into the blankets, and slunk over the side - flopping like an amoeba and absorbing the headset into his fortress of warmth. He curled up and got comfortable again, adjusting the volume before putting it on. Yugi was repeating his name over and over, using a different tone each time. It was amusing, and Yami would have told him so, if it was not for the feverish pacing that echoed in the background.

Whatever Yugi was up to, his steps were frantic. "Yugi?"

"Finally! Yami, where have you been?" Yugi sounded more than little distressed, his words sharply delivered, "I feel like I have been trying to reach you for hours. I need you to help me."

It was hard to know if Yugi was actually upset with him or if the anger was a symptom of his panic. Either way, hostility nipped and laced each word.

Yami yawned, trying twice to answer, but his head kept lolling involuntarily and drooping. "I'm sorry Yugi. The sound, and… I… I fell asleep."

"No, no, please! I can't do this without you. I need you. Wake up! Please? Yami?" It was a battle to make sense of what Yugi was trying to tell him. "…pretty please?"

"Okay..." His voice sounded dry and not like his own. Damn it, he could barely think straight. He needed water – or coffee. Preferably coffee, but he only had eight packs left to get him through the rest of the journey. He had indulged too much, too quickly, and diminished his supplies. Although - if he was going to hold any kind of conversation, now would be a good time to spoil himself.

Yami drew a sharp breath and forced himself to open his eyes wider. He needed to turn on all the lights. The thought drew out a low growl of displeasure. Still, he threw everything aside before the impulse to do so could pass. It had to be done. If he had not, he would be tempted to sleep again. But now he was cold...

At least Yugi could not see him pout. His body demanded sleep which made throwing a childish fit feel justified; and yet, defiantly, he did the mature thing and sat up. He inhaled slowly through his nose. The air made him shiver but he moved quickly, hobbling across the chilled tiles to snap on the overhead lights.

Yugi was silent on the other end; his boots were not. Urgency carried in each quick stride.

"I'm awake now, go ahead Yugi. I'm listening."

The dam of restrained emotion burst. "I found Honda. He's been out there for two days, maybe more. He's got frostbite everywhere, lesions… I-I don't know what I am doing. It was hard enough dragging him back here…" It sounded like Yugi was struggling to breathe.

"I'll guide you, take a breath," Yami said, setting the kettle to warm then walking to his desk.

He had learned a long time ago the value of a busy mind. Yugi could not be allowed to think too deeply about what he had to do. It had to be a wound, not person; a body, not a "Honda". If Yugi did not disassociate, he would fail to act appropriately. He had to keep Yugi focused on small tasks. Keep his mind occupied with something to do. There could be no time to stop. No time to think. If there was, Yugi might steep himself in dark places. It was like star-madness, and once it broke a person, it was nearly impossible to repair. "Do you have access to warm water?"

"I can boil some."

He could hear Yugi rummaging through drawers and clinking various glassware until a tap turned on.

"Don't waste any more than you need. Just enough for a small tub."

Something smashed and Yugi cursed.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. I - cut myself. Damn it… I'm so tired. I haven't slept yet… I did not find food, and - my hands - I didn't have gloves."

Yami readjusted in his seat, not letting himself slouch or get comfortable. "You need to take care of your own injuries first."

"But Honda needs-"

"No. You need to listen." Yami paused to make sure Yugi would not protest. "Remember your first-aid and flight-safety demos? 'Before you help others, you must help yourself' - its basic, 101. Tell me what your injuries are, then I will talk you through how to treat Honda."

Yugi was silent.

This would be a lot easier if Yami could be ground side to help, but the ISRTs could only space-dock. "I already have documents loaded so, please, be satisfied knowing that you have access to the bio-lab and won't need to, and I quote, 'find a sharp rock'."

Yugi snapped at him. "Fine." It clearly wasn't, but Yugi continued. "It's, mild, frostbite. A little blue? I-I just need to warm up."

"And your feet?"

"Fine, they're fine. Don't worry."

"Stop saying 'fine', Yugi." Yami did not disguise his annoyance. "You can not walk on them if there is even the slightest… You don't want to lose your feet."

Yugi hissed and whined with impatience. "I have a couple of those little, exothermic, hot-packs in my boots, that'll be fine – uh, good enough."

Yami tapped his desk. "And how bad is the cut?"

"Its" – Yugi exhaled loudly – "It's okay. It's not very deep. I knocked over a beaker and stupidly tried to catch it."

Yami could hear him pushing the glass shards around.

"You better not be lying to me Yugi Mutou, or I'm telling your dad."

He smiled as Yugi gasped.

"He's alive! You found him? Oh, thank the stars… Yami, what did he say?" 

Despite Yugi's excitement, there was not much Yami could offer. He tried his best to be comforting, still smiling and feeling gratified in the afterglow of Yugi's elation. "It was an emergency beacon, a pre-recorded one. The voice was Solomon Mutou, but anyone could be manipulating it to speak with me. They know that you are here and that help is coming. At the very least, it confirms you are not alone."

Yugi was quiet and it made Yami's skin crawl. After the pass of thirty seconds he felt compelled to fill the empty air. "I think they may have found shelter away from the beacon. There are no new messages, but, if you ask me, there is a high probability that the beacon is either near the bridge itself or the survivors have transport."

"Transport? It could be the BLS!"

Yami shook his head. "I don't know what that is."

Yugi snickered. "You aren't the only one that enjoys naming things."

Yami let the silence sit, biting his lip until Yugi continued. "My dad and I name all our gadgets together. The BLS was named after my dad's favourite duel monster card. It's actually a modified M35, but the gun has been removed and the interior was stripped so it could ferry up to seven passengers. It, uh… It's a joke because the Black Luster Soldier is difficult to summon and, quite frankly, the BLS has a hard time getting started, but when she does" - He chuckled at some far-off memory.

"I take it you were driving?"

"Shut up!" Yugi laughed. It was so rich Yami lost sight of what he was supposed to be doing.

"At any rate, the bleeding has stopped and I have it wrapped now. I think the room is finally starting to warm up. I had to use several Bunsen burners since the room's climate control would drain the power too quickly. I should have been back sooner to seal the doors and keep the day-time heat in, but it is a little too late to worry about that now."

"It was a good solution considering what you have to work with. It did not occur to me before, but we can use materials in the bio-lab and I will talk you through some thermochemistry. We can make more hot-packs for Honda and it will spare your water reserves. You can use what you've poured already for cleaning, but we really should start monitoring that too.

"Oh, water won't be a problem. I'm actually near a lake. I took some samples to run through the machine, but I am certain Honda has ingested it since that is where I found him."

"I am glad you took samples because he could now be a bio-hazard as well."

"It's too late to worry about that, I already did CPR. If he has something, I have too."

Yami clicked his tongue. He didn't like that. "Was it necessary?"

"As I said, I found him in the lake. I think he was trying to get my attention and fell in. He wasn't breathing when I pulled him out, but he is now." Yugi sighed at the silence. "Let's not worry about it. I will run the samples and we can deal with that hurdle when we get there. So, what is the first step? Do I just, heat him up?"

"Are you certain you are ready?" Yami opened a file on his computer and linked it to his headset.

"Yeah… As ready as I will ever be. Let's get it over with."

He could hear trepidation and nervousness in Yugi's tone. So he cued the music -- and it was worth it, if only to hear Yugi laugh again.

"Really? 'Mission Impossible'? Sir, you do me such disrespect – Hey! I didn't say turn it off!" Yami pressed play again. "You know, I've heard this song so many times, but I have never actually watched the movie."

"There's really no need to." Yami changed the song, he was already bored with it. He chose the Four Seasons instead and let it play in the background as filler. "How bad are his fingers and toes? Any blisters? What colour?"

"I am… so, blown away right now."

Yami rolled his head, stretching out his stiff neck and thinking about that coffee again. "What do you mean? Did you find other injuries?"

"No, I mean- you- classical music? I never would have thought..." Yugi gagged. "Oh, no the smell."

Yami tried, but failed to stifle a laugh at Yugi's melodrama. It was cruel, but struck him as hilarious. After waiting to hear if Yugi would recover, he finally had to ask, "Are you going to be okay? Did he soil himself?"

"No." Another dry-heave. "Its his feet. Took off his boots … I'm dying. It's so sour."

Yami chuckled. "I take it back, I'm glad I'm not with you."

"You were thinking that?"

Yami's mouth pulled into a line. He crinkled his nose. Had he not said that aloud? He chose to play it off. "Pfft, not any more. I don't do well around bad smells either."

"Huh…"

"What?"

"He's got other injuries… It is worse than I thought. Way worse. He must have been hurt during the crash-"

The morning alarm went off. They both ignored it.

"Yami…" Yugi said it softly, barely audible above the music. Yami turned it off. "I already know what you are going to say but I need to put him in cryo. He needs a real doctor, someone that can help him. This isn't a med-bay. I only have access to a basic first aid kit. And…"

Yugi's voice was overtaken by sorrow. It quivered and Yugi gave up the effort of trying to continue.

Yami sighed, rising out of his chair to pour the coffee now that the kettle clicked off. "You made me a promise Yugi."

He tried to give Yugi time, but no answer was forthcoming. "If you put him into cryo you will be draining the majority of the power you have left. We still don't know when help will actually arrive. Both of you could end up dying instead of one. You promised me, that when then time came, you would put yourself first-"

"- You don't…" Yugi choked on his words. Yami offered him the respect of staying silent and Yugi took the time to catch his breath. "You don't understand…"

"I think I understand enough." He stirred his coffee and returned with it to his desk. "He was a friend, and you don't want to watch him die. No one should have to go through that, but you nearly killed yourself bringing him back to the lab. You've done all you can do. It's not your fault. You can't hold yourself responsible-"

"No!" Again Yugi was struggling to talk and breathe at the same time. It did not quite sound like he was crying, but – he was on the edge of what his emotions and tired state could handle.

"Take your time. I'm listening."

"I… I…"

"Breathe."

Yugi drew a long breath and slowly released it.

"Again."

He compiled, and already his voice started to level out. "Do you… how much do you know about anthropology? Specifically, what an anthropologist does?"

Yami's face heated. "Um… Nothing, if I'm honest. I always thought it had something to do with dinosaurs but I know that's wrong now."

"It's the study of people, past and present." Yugi huffed and swallowed whatever emotion ailed him. "Remember, when I told you about my PhD? That I'm doing research on spaceflight communities? Well, an anthropologists' main tool is 'participant-observation'" -his voice cracked - "put emphasis on the 'participant' part…"

Yami took a sip of his coffee and waited while Yugi took a series of slow breaths. "Honda and I grew up together, but I… I went into cryo and he… he didn't. It might be hard to understand but everyone on the Aralia was my friend. I knew all of them."

"I see."

"They were all asked to keep recordings, a weekly blog or journal entry that I could read and use for my thesis when I woke up. Seeing Honda like this... its hard. He's old now… And, assuming everything went well between him and Miho, Honda could have kids. And those kids could have kids! It's insane... I knew, going in, that this would be the outcome but – seeing it… It was so easy at the start, to acknowledge this reality. Everyone dies – we all know that. Loosely, its there in the back of our minds; but to see it, to stare it in the face like this… For me it feels like a week ago, for Honda a lifetime. I finally understand my-"

The radio went silent and Yami feared the worst. "Yugi?! Yugi, did you loose power?"

"No, no, I'm still here."

Yami breathed a sigh of relief but Yugi still seemed to be lost in thought. After an extended pause Yami hummed into the silence, trying to put words together. The sound was enough to pull Yugi back into focus.

"I'm sorry. I was just… My dad. I can't imagine how I'll react to seeing him." Yugi laughed dryly and it mixed with a sob. "I'll have to start calling him 'grandpa' or people are going to look at us funny."

Yami tried to smile, but it was a wasted effort since Yugi could not see him anyways. "I wish I knew what to say, but honestly, you were right; I didn't understand. And I still don't. I thought the two of you were close?"

"We are, but - my research..." He took a breath. "We want to use it to ban mandatory interstellar postings. It's how I got the funding and why everyone joined the Aralia. There have been so many cases documenting how interstellar travel ruins families, but the counter legislation keeps citing the need for a 'proper' scientific study. Honda's dad was military, his mother as well. A lot of the military kids grew up together simply because our families were so broken. My mom was military…"

Yami could immediately sense the pain.

"She was posted when I was 2. When she came back I was already 17. We were now only 4 years apart in age. It was so weird. Whatever she expected to find when she returned, it wasn't me. Things might have worked out between her and my dad if I wasn't around, but - she left, and dad kept me. For her, only a few months had past, yet the family she left behind was gone..."

Yami closed his eyes, imagining the homecoming and how the scenario might have played out. "Thank you, Yugi."

"Huh?"

"For helping me understand." Yami hugged himself, drawing himself closer to the desk. "I have a new plan now, so - put Honda in cryo. I will help you, however I can, to save everyone on the Aralia."

Yugi gave a soft chortle. "I'm sorry I couldn't keep the promise."

Yami snorted. "You're not off the hook yet Mutou, I can hear the exhaustion in your voice. Move Honda into cryo and get some rest. I'll check in on the beacon and see if anyone is responding to the distress signal while you sleep."

"Thank you."

"Of course, Yugi." He slid back from the desk but did not get very far.

"Wait! Yami? Are you still there?"

"Yeah, I'm here."

"Can you… play that song? The classical one? I'td be nice to have something to listen to."

Yami smiled softly. "Any other requests? I have a library full of old songs."

"No, some other time. I used to always listen to audio books in bed but I think whatever you had on will work." Yugi's voice turned mischievous, "Unless you want to read to me?"

"I'm not reading you a bed time story."

"Aww, why not? Do you sing?"

"Go to bed Yugi."

He chuckled to himself. "Well, I tried. Good night Yami."

"Good night Yugi."

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**A/N:** All of you have been so kind, thank you for the feedback! :D


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